


The road less traveled: Or how Kurt Hummel learned to play with fire

by MeriKG



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, First Meetings, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-09 01:00:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8869636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeriKG/pseuds/MeriKG
Summary: Kurt Hummel misses his bus stop and ends up in the middle of nowhere with no phone signal amid a bunch of Carnies.  Say what?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so once upon a time, Seeleyboothfan wrote an advent fic and suggested she'd like to see it go somewhere. And someone else stated it was completely unrealistic. That's a double dare if I ever heard one, so I finished it. I've never tried piggybacking on someone else's idea so this is a first for me. Seeley's work is directly 100% cut and paste into the middle of my fic. I changed nothing of her work. I hope you like, I had fun with this one. Short by my standards, and definitely A/U, different meeting. I have permission from the original author to cite her story.

Kurt stared down at the light film of dust coating his once-pristine black hi-top converse. He had really thought New York would be the answer for him. But four years in one of the most exclusive music theatre collegiate programs (with perfect marks), and a successful internship at Vogue of all improbable places, later, he still found himself floundering.

Kurt had spent most of his life picturing how his first opening night on Broadway would go. A full house, lights so bright they blinded, and the coveted standing ‘O’ with his father in the front row clapping his heart out, beaming with pride that his son had finally made it. 

That happy ending wasn’t in the cards anymore. Kurt pulled his heavy backpack closer to his body, imagining he could feel the small metallic container painstakingly packed inside. The sound of a wheezy engine filled the late evening air as the last bus for the night rolled into the station. Distantly, he noted that the engine was misfiring, and they’d need to fix it eventually, but it shouldn’t be enough to affect his trip.

He stood from the bench, stretching one more good time and clutching his bus ticket in one hand while he patiently waited for the bus to begin boarding. He’d be riding this line for about 3 hours, his next destination a station in Springfield, Missouri where he'd be catching a Greyhound red-eye. 

Kurt climbed up the creaky bus steps and found a seat in the back all to himself. He was already tired of traveling and he wasn’t even halfway to his destination yet. But making his trip by bus was a third the cost of a plane ticket, and Kurt wanted to have at least a little left in his savings account when his six-month grace period ended and the student loan payments started up.

Sighing, he leaned against the window and closed his eyes against the bright sunset. 

******SeeleyBoothFan original prompt*********  
Kurt had been lulled to sleep as his body swayed with the motion of the bus going down the road. So, it was a shock when Kurt awoke to complete stillness with an added darkness around him. He peered out the window, feeling his nerves kick in when he didn't recognize the landscape. He seemed to be pretty far out in the country, the only lights coming from some sort of caravan a few hundred yards away. "The hell?"

The bus was empty, all of Kurt's earlier companions looked to have been long gone. Thankfully, he didn't seem to have been robbed, his wallet still in his back pocket and his bag next to him on the seat, unopened.

After a quick check of his cell phone (no service, figures), he decided to venture toward the caravan. He glared at the empty driver's seat, really, what sort of person leaves someone in their vehicle sound asleep without even a note about how to reach them?!

Praying he hadn't just stumbled into a horror movie, he clutched his bag tightly to his chest and exited the bus. He could hear the sound of voices and laughter as he got nearer to the lit up area, but he still couldn't figure out where exactly he was.

As he got closer, he could start making out words on the caravans, lists of foods and attractions that clued Kurt into the fact that he just might have been dropped off at a circus or carnival. It didn't soothe his nerves any.

He paused just outside the halo of light around the outer perimeter of the caravan, feeling his heart clench in his chest as his mind flashed images of his mangled corpse being discovered months down the line once someone actually came out here besides carnies. He was tempted to just take off and hope he came across a town, but someone caught his eye.

He couldn't make out whom it was at first, the face darkened by the shadow of an awning on one of the trucks. "Hello there," the person greeted. "Can I help you?" They sounded pleasant enough.

Kurt, still a little scared stupid, responded, "I fell asleep on the bus and woke up here."

The person stepped closer and finally he was encased in the orangish light, revealing himself to be a boy that couldn't be much older than Kurt, a pleasant smile on his face. "That really sucks," he said, continuing to walk closer. "There's no service this far out, so I unfortunately can't offer to call you a cab. I can, however, offer you something to eat and drink."

"I don't really know if I should," Kurt hedged, looking around him to make sure no one else was creeping up behind him.

The boy chuckled. "Some of us might look a little scary, but we're not murderers, if that's what you're still acting all antsy about." He got close enough that Kurt could make out several tattoos going up both of the boy's arms. "I'm Blaine, the Ring Master."

"Kurt," he responded, taking Blaine's outstretched hand and shaking it. Blaine's grip was firm and the contracting of the muscles in his bicep made one of his tattoos, a bird in flight, actually look like it was moving. "Do you have any idea where we actually are?"

Blaine smiled. "One of the hazards of life on the road is I don't ever really know, especially since they set us up on in the boonies usually. Where the fairs go, we go, as they say. You're welcome to spend the night and we can drop you off when we pass through the next town."

Kurt bit his lip, debating. Blaine seemed nice enough, but he'd heard horror stories of carnies and he had no means to protect himself. His grumbling stomach seemed to make the decision for him. "Food sounds lovely, actually."

Blaine's smile brightened and he looped his arm over Kurt's shoulder and took them at a near jog back towards the main source of light, where the laughter was the loudest. "Vasiliev Family, we have a guest!" Blaine shouted, presenting Kurt to the group.

All manner of what looked to be animal wranglers, performers, and oddities were scattered about a large fire, plates and glasses in hand, mirth in their eyes. His presence was met with scattered applause.

Blaine brought him to a table laden with food and encouraged him to dig in. "So, I'm guessing you've never actually been to a carnival before?" At Kurt's blush, Blaine chuckled. "Well, it's not at all what people say it is. No murders, no kidnappings, no mayhem. Just people who want to be themselves and live the life they choose, and get paid for it. It's not too bad a life," Blaine said, looking around at the scattered crowd with a fond smile. "Some go looking for the life, but for most of us, it finds us." Blaine looked back at Kurt. "Maybe the bus leading you here wasn't a coincidence?"

Kurt shook his head, eyes wide. "I really don't think so. I'm much more suited to staying at home."

Blaine chuckled. "I thought the same, and then one night, I got this flier for the Vasiliev Traveling Circus. Barely a minute into the show, I was hooked." He pointed to a girl who was deep in conversation with a man so covered in tattoos; you couldn't find a patch of bare skin. "Alexei took me under her wing and I've been with them ever since."

Kurt nodded. "You said you're the Ring Master? What exactly do you do?"

"I'm the Master of Ceremonies. I do the first performance of the night and then I run the rest of the show behind the scenes." He pointed a tattoo on his wrist, holding it close to Kurt for him to look at. "See this flame here? I got it to commemorate my first clean run of my fire-juggling act. I get a new one for each new act."  
"That's beautiful. How many do you have?" Kurt couldn't help but ask.

Blaine's eyes sparkled and he leaned closer to Kurt. "If you want to take this somewhere a little more private, I could show you."  
"Oh, that's, ummmm - I don't think that's…" Kurt knew his face was beet red.

Blaine chuckled. "Kidding… unless you're interested, than it's always on the table," Blaine said with a wink. "What can I say? You're hot and it gets lonely on the road. I've got to take my chances where I can."

Kurt bit his lip, looking Blaine over. He was insanely attractive and the life he was describing sounded dangerous and exciting. Kurt had never taken a risk a day in his life. Maybe this was the perfect one to start with. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to Blaine's throwing caution to the wind. He probably wouldn't decide to stay once they reached the next town, but there was nothing stopping him from having an amazing night with this beautiful man.

********* Merikg from here to end*****************

Kurt woke with a moan, his head pounding. Whatever it was those damn Carnese had been passing around last night had been damn potent. He sat up gingerly, pausing as his stomach roiled. Once he was reasonably certain his stomach contents were going to stay inside, he opened his eyes, warily taking in his surroundings.  


He was in a lean, surprisingly comfortable bed, crammed into a tiny space. Kurt rose to his knees as he peered around the sparkly curtain blocking off the little bedroom area, discovering that he was in the back of an RV. The entire area was cramped, and every available space packed tight. 

Kurt rose, digging about for his clothes. He found his jeans at the foot of the bed and the henley he'd been wearing as an undershirt tangled up in the sheets. He decided to abandon his underwear after several minutes of fruitlessly searching. It was hardly the first time he'd be going commando. Kurt finger combed his hair, relieved that he'd taken to keeping it short lately. One he was at least somewhat presentable, Kurt wandered into the main cabin, looking about curiously. The camper would be considered ‘well loved’ by the charitable, and a pit by those less inclined to notice that it was well tended and clean despite its obvious age and being utterly stuffed. An image caught Kurt’s eye and he saw a poster tacked to the wall displaying a beaming young man in a tuxedo grandly gesturing with a flaming staff. Blaine, his alcohol fogged mind supplied as he stared. 

That’s right. Memories crashed into his conscious mind and he recalled parts of the previous night with humiliating clarity. He’d missed his bus stop and was hours away from Springfield. He’d fallen on circus folk, of all crazy things, and found himself welcomed by a beautiful man with a sweet smile, a GQ face, and wicked eyes. Kurt remembered the exact moment when he consciously decided to embrace the ‘YOLO’ moment and go with the flow. And then there had been some kind of wondrous meal, spicy kisses with a man who definitely knew what to do with his tongue, and then the brown jug of happiness that was passed liberally around. God, what had he been drinking? 

“Apple pie moon shine,” an amused voice spoke into the silence in a rich tenor. 

“I’m sorry?”

Blaine smiled. “You were talking out loud. You asked what you’d been drinking last night. That would be Sienna the Snake Charmer’s patented homemade Apple Pie moonshine. Which, should anyone ask, we absolutely do not sell on the side for a wonderful profit. Don’t ask what she puts in it; I don't have a clue. I never had the guts to ask her myself. It packs a wallop, though.”

Kurt groaned. “You aren’t kidding.” He took in Blaine’s outfit. The young ringmaster was wearing a brick-red skintight Lycra one-piece that left nothing of his amazing body to the imagination. 

“What are you doing?” 

Blaine smiled. “Getting ready for rehearsal. I’m backup tumbler for the Rayvens, our gymnastics family act. I don’t have half of the skills that those crazy folk do, of course, but I can manage enough to get through a few shows if one of them pulls a muscle or something.” He paused, “would you like to come watch?”

Kurt cocked his head. “Why not?” It wasn’t like he was going anywhere. Blaine beamed and turned away, hopping out of the trailer. Kurt swallowed, eyes wide as he watched that perfect spandex-covered ass in motion. 

“Kurt? Are you coming?”

“Not yet,” Kurt muttered, “but keep walking like that and I will be.”

“Hmm?” Blaine paused, looking over his shoulder back at Kurt. Whatever he saw, it made his eyes light with mischief. He gave that magnificent ass a little wiggle. 

“C’mon, you. This is the spectator portion of the morning. But I’m quite happy to move on to a more…interactive display once I’m done practicing.” He winked, turning away and headed towards a large tent.  
\---

Kurt was going to die. There was no other possibility. Watching Blaine tuck, roll, bend, and dear god, do the splits, in his high wire act was too much. He shifted again on the hay bail he was using as a seat, futility trying to take pressure off the tightness in his pants. 

“Hey, new guy. Mind if I sit?” Kurt looked up as a dark haired Asian girl settled down beside him. “Nice view, huh?” she asked, gesturing to where Blaine hung upside down on a wire, arm muscles bulging as he held one of the other acrobats while she did the splits. 

“Master of the understatement. I’m Kurt.” 

“Tina,” she replied, shaking his outstretched hand. “I do a horse act.”

“I think I saw that in one of the photos in Blaine’s trailer. It looked impressive.”

She smiled. “Thank you. So…how was Blaine in the sack? I’ve tried to get that boy to ‘experiment’ with me an embarrassing number of times. He swears it’s only dick for him, so I have to live vicariously.”

Kurt choked. “Jesus.” 

Tina raised an eyebrow, clearly awaiting an answer. 

“I…honestly, it’s kind of a blur. I was too drunk to properly appreciate the experience.”

“That’s a shame. Don't you remember anything at all?” Flashes of Blaine’s ass in his hands while Kurt kneaded at the perfect globes filled his mind. He was pretty sure they’d never gotten farther than rutting against one another, but he’d definitely gotten his hands on the Ringmaster’s finest asset at some point. 

“That blush says you remember something. C’mon Kurt, don’t be stingy. Give me the deets.”

Fortunately Kurt was saved from answering by the arrival of the hottie they’d been drooling over. Blaine was sweaty, dirty, and Kurt had to sit on his hands to keep from jumping him.

“Hi, Tina. Kurt, let me wash up really fast and we can get some lunch?” 

No need to wash up on his account. “Um, okay, that’d be good.”

Blaine was as good as his word, and disappeared in his trailer to emerge just five minutes later, clean and wearing a neat pair of jeans and a black tank top. He guided them to a small tent where food was being prepared, arranging plates for them both while he joked and teased with the young woman stirring the pots.

“So, I asked around. We are actually headed the opposite way of your bus station,” Blaine told him apologetically. “But there’s a show tonight. I can probably arrange for one of our vendors to give you a ride back to Springfield in the morning.”

“Thank you,” Kurt replied, diving into his meal. He still had no idea what he was eating, and had no intention of asking. It was hot and yummy, and that was enough for him. 

“If you don’t mind my asking, where are you headed?” Blaine asked conversationally. 

“Southern California. I have an aunt that lives there. I have something that I need to give to her.” Kurt’s mind drifted to his backpack and it’s precious contents with a pang. He forced a smile for Blaine. “She and my dad were really close once, before she moved. I don’t remember much of her, actually. She only came around on the holidays.” He shrugged, shoveling a forkful of food into his mouth before he said more.

“I see.” Blaine was silent for a moment, working on his own meal. “It’s not my place, but you don’t seem to be in any hurry. Surely you have someone at home missing you?”

Kurt shrugged. “I live in New York, technically. But my roommate just added her boyfriend to the household and I’m beginning to feel like a fifth wheel. I graduated from NYADA last month and I have some savings, so I have some time before I need to seriously start working on my career.”

Blaine’s eyebrows rose and he whistled. “Damn. NYADA, really? Well, that ought to open some doors. I considered going there when I was in high school. Of course, that changed the day I graduated from high school and my father told me I was officially no longer his responsibility and cut me off.”

“Blaine, that’s awful. Why?”

Blaine shrugged. “Something about having a fag for a son. Honestly, I quit listening after he started talking about finding me a ‘good girl’ and just packed my stuff. I sort of fell into this life, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything.” He smiled, an open honest expression.

“So, it sounds like you have some time on your hands?” Blaine asked a short while later with deliberate nonchalance.

“Why do you ask?”

Blaine shrugged, collection their used plates and taking them to the dirty bin. Kurt followed. “Its just, well. The caravan is scheduled to hold over the winter in a camping area a few hours out from Fresno. That’s in Southern California. It’ll take us a while; we don’t exactly move quickly and we stop every chance we get to do a show. The trip should take two or three months. If you have the time, and maybe could use a break, you’re welcome to travel with us. I’d be happy to share my camper with you.”

Kurt’s eyes widened. 

Blaine saw the look and stuttered, “I mean, no obligation or anything. It’s not like we have to like, be in a sexual relationship, though if that’s something you’d like I’m certainly on board, I mean, look at you. You’re gorgeous, and those legs go on forever, and…oh, god I’m making a mess of this.”

Kurt couldn’t help himself, he burst into laughter as his confident, put-together, gorgeous ringmaster blushed and flustered his way through the oddest invitation Kurt had ever received.

“What would I do? Since paying up in sexual favors clearly isn’t an option?” Kurt asked, still chuckling.

Blaine scowled. “Fine. Last time I try and be a gentleman.” But he smiled, eyes lighting when he realized Kurt wasn’t dismissing the idea out of hand.

“Well, I have this airborne act that I’m working on. Have you ever seen P!nk perform?” Kurt nodded. “Well, it’s that kind of thing. But there’s no way I can do the act and sing at the same time. Even P!nk leans heavily on her background singers when she does it.”

“You went to NYADA, so you must have an outstanding voice, and with your tone you have to be a counter-tenor. Maybe you could do vocals for my performance? I’d be happy to split proceeds with you, though I’ll tell you straight up, we don’t make much.”

Kurt cocked his head in consideration. Before he could answer, Blaine was called away to work at his Ring Master role with some of the others. Kurt was grateful for the chance to think. He wandered around the tents, watching strange folk do even stranger things. What did he have to go home to? An apartment where he’d definitely outstayed his welcome? The house in Ohio? Carole was wonderful, but her sisters had moved in to keep her company, and Kurt didn’t know them. 

Who in this world really got the chance to join a traveling circus, anyway? If this were a movie plot, he’d be rolling his eyes and the ludicrous notion. And of course there was Blaine. Kind, talented, hot as hell Blaine with the stunning voice and that ass…well, it was a compelling argument in its own right. 

He vaguely remembered Blaine talking to him the previous night while they tumbled naked into his cramped little bed, cursing about a lack of condoms and how he’d been quite sure that he’d die if Kurt didn’t fuck him. Well, Kurt couldn’t in good conscious allow that to happen, now could he? 

Spotting Tina walking by leading a gorgeous white gelding with a vaulting saddle on its back, he hurried to catch up. He had a feeling she would be willing to spare a condom or two for a good cause. And he had a feeling that Blaine would be very, very good.

Kurt was leaning against Blaine’s trailer, reading a kindle book on his phone while he waited for the ring master to finish up. Lack of service didn’t mean he couldn’t use his library. It would be enough to keep him occupied for a few months.

“Did you mean it?” Kurt blurted out the moment Blaine came into range. He groaned internally. Smooth, Kurt. Very smooth.

“I’m sure I did. What are we talking about?” Blaine asked, walking up to lean beside him. 

“The offer to travel with you to California. Did you mean it?”

“Oh, that. Yes, I did. Every word. Even the part about your legs, though that was humiliating and I’m not one to objectify a person and you’re way more then a pair of fabulous gams attached a perfectly pert posterior, and oh, God I’m doing it again.” 

Blaine paused, taking a deep breath. “Yes, I meant it. I would love it if you’d travel with us for a while.” 

Kurt smiled. “Okay.”

“Okay? That’s it?”

“Yep,” Kurt agreed. “I have a bet I have to make good on, after all.”

“Oh, what’s that?” Blaine asked opening the door to his trailer, his mind only half paying attention as he focused on where he’d find some space for Kurt to call his own in the tiny space. Maybe he could sell some of his older costumes? It’s not like he did the ring act anymore and those things really took up a ton of space and…”

“I made a bet with Tina about how many tattoos you have,” Kurt replied innocently. “And we both agreed that taking your word for it isn’t good enough. I’ll need to catalogue each one.”

Blaine licked his lips. “I have a lot. And some…some of them aren’t exactly in obvious places.” 

Kurt’s smiled turned lascivious. “Well, it’s good that I have time to find them all. And I expect to hear the story behind each image.”

“That’s quite a tale, you know,” Blaine replied. He brushed his chest up against Kurt's, rising on his tiptoes so their lips were parallel. “If you want to know their stories, it’ll cost you a kiss for each tattoo.”

Kurt wrapped his arms around the petite ringmaster, closing the last few inches separating them. “You’re on.”

\-----------------------------------------------


End file.
